Saturday, May 30, 2009

If you need a lavender 8" x 4" oval lampshade, there's some peace of mind knowing a store like Just Shades exists and they probably have such a thing in stock. So when I saw this review two-star trashing the store on Yelp....

...I realized the dangers of giving computer access to the utterly self-absorbed. Just in case I ever hack her Yelp account, I've prepared some reviews to post on her behalf. She probably won't even notice:

Vegetarian Deli - I can't believe they didn't have pastrami. I always get pastrami for lunch. Three stars but only because the counter boy was cute.

Whole Foods - I had a hankering for dim sum and I walked around the entire store looking for table service and a stubby pencil to write down my order. No luck. Two stars for not even trying.

Starbucks - It sucked. I wanted to buy a windshield wiper blade replacement for my Audi A4 and the barista said they didn't sell windshield wipers. One star for this one trick pony establishment.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

I'd give my right arm to be ambidextrous. This way I could kiss the Glove Problem goodbye.

The first underpinning of the Problem is that I like my right hand, my hammer hand, in supple leather that fits like a glove. If I can't get a solid grip, my five-pound Uri Hofi hammer whips itself from my fingers and sails across the garage like a cannonball.

Generally, this never ends well.

The second underpinning of the problem is that I like my left hand in a chubby flame-retardant gauntlet, given that it often finds itself in, on, or about some really hot ass fire.

So here you have it. The Problem, as depicted below. One pair of hammer-handers. Left hand - good as new. Right hand - seen better days. Two pairs of fire-handers. Left hand - seen better days. Right hand- good as new.Same exact point depicted below, enmass:

I've been scoping around for a lefty smithie over at the swapmeet.

I really took a shine to these new-fangled Kevlar IronClad numbers M&D got me for Christmas. Good grip, good fit. Thumbs up. I think I'm due for a new pair.

A hole is a good sign that something happened that's gonna leave a mark. I plan to let my fingerprints grow back, just to be safe.

A person needs a goodly quantity of handwear because if you dangle your grubbies inside the forge too long, your gloves heat up like convection ovens and things get crispy inside. The discomfort level ramps up from mild to a real sizzler, which is when you have to wrench off the steaming glove and throw it out on the driveway to cool off. After that, you need a fresh, sweetly cool glove at the ready. I go through about a glove an hour.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Me in "The Tub."Me and Nutchie and his wife-beater and sour pudge head in The Tub.

When I was maybe a few years older, I barely remember dragging The Tub out underneath a drainage spout in the concrete wall edging the alley. We filled it up with water during a thunderstorm and practically got struck by lightening. I recall the eerie blue light.

- - - - - - - - -

After 40 years and at least 10 with a valueless-rendering hole in the base, we have finally sucked it up and discarded "The Tub".

Last Monday night after hours of deliberation, Mom and I decided to put "The Tub" out for the trash truck to take. But, the gods intervened and the trash takers did not opt to remove "The Tub".

Perhaps they felt it was not truly trash or they felt it should not be removed from its home, but maybe Stanlissteel, the goddess of The Tubs, made it invisible so it would not be seen to be removed.

The bottomline: after a storied history, "The Tub" lives... for yet another trash day!

Sunday, May 10, 2009

First I wasn't sure if Marc was vomiting over there in the corner, but when I saw the buck knife, I realized it was just some mischievous harikari. His shaving theatrics and stunning mongoose-like beauty underpinned the entire video sequence. Meanwhile, Janet, wrapped in a glorious white feather boa, egged on the proceedings with some randy episodes of tushy shaking and un-lipsyncmanlike whooping.

Stage right could barely contain MJ Andrew's dance on the floor in a round of downtempo pantomime. First, he's all nooooo, with the head shaking. Then there's some sidebar comments and beer drinking and Kabuki theatre references. Next comes a mimed sequence where he possibly unlocks a door and rides away on a smallish Huffy BMX bike. The grand finale is a bout of one-legged triple PG dirty dancing.